ok, I swear I am not shitting you with anything that is contained within this post. though I do freely admit that at the time, and in the aftermath, I believe my life to be stranger than fiction, and to resemble some kind of hallucinogenic trip. but this does give you some idea as to how bloody random my life really is.

so last thursday I’m invited to the st benet’s christmas party. ok, so oxford is a collegiate university, and we have all these different little colleges and some funky little places called permanent private halls, which are basically religious institutions for monks and priests and the like, some of which admit the odd layman for degrees and suchlike. one of whom is my very good mate benj, who invited me to their christmas party. with the monks, natch. now, I’ve partied with some of the monks (you’ve not LIVED till a monk called brother hugh has made you gin and tonics and you’ve done tequila slammers with him) before, but I’m always game for some christmas cheer. oh, and did I mention that I’m jewish?

ok, so the party was SO much fun, loads of mates there, lots of booze, great atmostphere, really top fun. and then there was the fucking WEIRDNESS. ok, so first off you have to get used to most of the party being in black tie except for the odd monk floating around in his habit, playing host and topping up your glass with champagne (I kid you not, and it gets SO much weirder!). then I get introduced to ‘father henry’, who is apparently the head of the hall and is a very nice chap. it comes up in conversation that I’m jewish, and he says ‘oh, well, I’m a jew, you know’. now, I’m now sure if this is in the ghetto sense of ‘we’re all brothers, man’, cos, y’know, he’s a priest in a habit, so it’s a bit of an odd thing to say. but it turns out that he is indeed born jewish. now, I’ve heard of jews for jesus, but this is ridiculous, haha.

then we have fireworks out on the garden after dinner. so monks in habits running around in their habits letting off catherine wheels and rockets. you know, the usual.

then we go inside and I look out to the lawn. what do I see? only two monks in long flowing white robes having a kick-about playing football. two monks. in habits. playing keepy-uppy. I am NOT shitting you.

then a bit later the dance music downstairs kicks off. there is a room full of monks dancing to disco music. I am dancing on a table next to a monk. to kylie.

ok, you do have to admit that my life is more than a little random, yes?

courtesy of himself, this is mildly cheesy but will make you go ‘aaaaah’. though I do wish to know where they find these incredibly articulate 5 and 6 year olds. I’m fairly sure I would have said something like ‘love is when you get to have another yogurt’ or something equally moronic. doh.

thoughts from a drunken night out…

inevitably on a night out, you will end up at a cashpoint, where you will pray to the holy god ATM that your bank will be stupid enough to let you withdraw money when you are obviously so far into your overdraft that positive pounds is but a myth and a legend of years gone by…

but I digress.

the thought was that there ought to be a ‘student’ (or alternatively ‘pauper’ – both are interchangeable) shortcut button when at cashpoints to bypass all the screens for ‘cash – no we DO NOT want to check our balance – no receipt – ten pounds please’. cos the worst scenario (apart from the benevolent god ATM refusing you money on the grounds of you being a penniless scrounger) is that the machine will only give you a twenty pound note. which, obviously, if you are lucky enough to have twenty pounds available in your overdraft, then you’re clearly going to blow. cos you think ‘woo, I have twenty pounds in my wallet, more beer please!’

and as for ‘do you want an advice slip?’

the advice students (paupers) actually need? STOP SPENDING BLOODY MONEY!!!! like, duh. I ask you…